Venom
by kittenkatpaw
Summary: Benny is dying. It's up to Honor to save him, and she'll use any method necessary to do it...


I've found a few Benny/Honor stories that I haven't published here, so a few things may be popping up like this over the next couple of weeks. Anyway, up until now the fic I've shared hasn't really shown Honor at the height of her bad-assedness. I mean, we know all LW/Couriers are bad asses or they wouldn't survive until the end of the game. But so far a lot (okay, mostly all) I've shown of Honor is her soft, lovey side. She's living on the Strip, she's stupid happy, she's mostly given up being a bad ass...time to shake up her world a little. *insert evil grin here*

~#~

"Venom"

Benny rolled out of the empty bed slowly. He wasn't the sharpest tack in the mornings, not since coming to live on the Strip, but this morning he was exceptionally sluggish. A headache was creeping in around the edges, too. _Maybe I'm getting a cold._ It was just as well Honor was still away, dealing with an NCR delegation at the Mojave Outpost; he'd hate to give his pussycat whatever bug he was picking up.

He headed downstairs to check in with Swank and get filled in on the overnights and found Cass and Veronica, both dressed to the nines, at the front desk. He raised his eyebrows at them and whistled. "Well, to what aligning stars do we owe the pleasure?"

They both turned to him, and rather than responding to his patter, Cass- of all people- frowned. "Are you feeling all right?"

A little nervous now, he asked, "Why?"

"You look like hell," Veronica said.

He'd just seen himself in the mirror upstairs. He hadn't looked his best, he'd admit, but he hadn't looked nearly bad enough to warrant Cass's concern. He had no idea how bad he'd have to look for that. He wondered if he should be worrying.

Swank turned at the conversation and jumped back a little. "Whoa! Benny- Boss- _are_ you doin' okay?"

He shook his head. "What the hell is everybody talking about?"

Veronica opened the small clutch she carried and withdrew a tiny mirror. She held it up in front of him.

He looked worse. It wasn't just the lobby's lighting compared to the suite's, either; in the time it had taken for him to leave the 13th floor and get downstairs, he had paled beneath his tan and shadows had begun to cast under his eyes. "What the fuck-"

"Come on," Veronica said, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him toward the door. "You're not getting sick on our watch." He started to pull back, to wave them away with assurances that he didn't need help, it was just a cold, he'd be fine; but Cass grabbed his other arm in a grip much firmer than Veronica's.

"Honor will kick our asses if we let you get sick while she's away."

"Point taken." He relented, not over the threat of Honor's anger, but because he was beginning to suspect that something was actually wrong. He let the women lead him across the street to the old embassy building which now housed a full-blown Followers hospital. They entered, he and Veronica waiting by the door while Cass asked the on-duty to send out Arcade or Julie. When told neither were available, she began to explain in very colorful language that the leader of New Vegas, and the courier's cuddlebunny- and he did wish she'd stop calling him that- needed to see someone, NOW. The nurse very politely explained that no one got preferential treatment, no matter whom they knew or how powerful they were, and just as Cass was about to further explain that she would rip the woman's stomach out through her nose, Benny coughed and gurgled and vomited a good pint of blood onto the floor.

The nurse stopped arguing, and within seconds he was lying in a bed in an exam room, with both Julie and Arcade standing over him.

Both were at a complete loss as to what was wrong.

They did agree on one thing: whatever it was, it was progressing frighteningly fast, and it was going to kill him. They estimated that, with a steady flow of stimpaks, blood transfusions, and as many autodoc treatments as he could stand, he had about five days.

Honor would be home in one, and someone was going to have to explain to her what the hell was going on. They all hoped they'd know what to tell her by then.

~#~

Sometime during the deliberation, Benny drifted off. When he awoke, he was in a different room, a somehow more clinical looking one. He had a mask strapped to his face that chilled. Veronica sat by his bed and raised up as he woke. He reached for the mask, but she pushed his hand away gently. "You're not breathing well enough without that." She smiled for him, but they both knew it was false.

He glanced from her face to the pale, pretty dress she wore. It had blood splashed liberally across the skirt. "Ruined your dress," he mumbled.

"Are you kidding?" she asked. "That's what you're worried about? Or are you just delirious?"

He didn't know. He closed his eyes and was out again.

~#~

Honor got home that night, twelve hours early. Swank waited for her outside the Tops, telling her what they knew as he escorted her to the clinic. She listened quietly to Julie and Arcade, holding Benny's enervated hand as they told her what they did and didn't know- and there was far too much of the latter and not nearly enough of the former. She remained silent as they told her that all that they knew for sure was that Benny had been poisoned. Arcade speculated that the poison had consisted of a mix of toxins, since antivenoms and antitoxins had made small dents in his declining condition, but not enough to halt it, and certainly not enough to reverse it. Unless they knew all the components so they could concoct a specific counter, he explained gently, it was only a matter of time.

Five days, give or take.

When they were all done dancing on eggshells around her with their explanations and worried expressions, she nodded. "All right. Swank, if you would please, send everyone who's worked the front desk in the last 24 hours over to Mickey Angelo's."

"We'd have to close down, sending that many people."

Without letting go of Benny's hand, she turned cold eyes on him. "And is there a problem with that?"

Instead of being angry in the face of her orders, he slowly grinned. "Man. Times like this, I really get why you're his dame." He sobered. "Consider us dark until further notice." He started to leave, but she stopped him.

"Please tell Yes Man to meet me out front and to put the Securitrons on alert."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

He left quickly.

She leaned down and caressed Benny's face. He didn't stir; he hadn't regained consciousness since speaking to Veronica. She put her lips to his ear. "I'll be right back, baby. I promise."

Even with the promise, it was damned hard to pull herself away, but there was work to do, and as she saw it, she was the only one for the job.

Swank and Yes Man were already at the door, waiting for her, when she emerged. She and Swank headed straight for Mickey's, Yes Man falling in beside her. "How many Securitrons are on regional patrol?"

"Two hundred and twelve," Yes Man answered brightly. "Is Benny really sick?"

"Yes. How many are on city patrol?"

"One hundred. Is he really going to die?"

"Not if I can help him. How many are in reserve?"

"Three hundred and twenty. Do you think you can help him?"

"I don't know." She paused as they reached the artist's workshop. "Alert the whole reserve and half of each of the patrols to eminent reassignment." Swank's eyes widened, but he held his tongue.

"Will do! Reassignment to where?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I do. Wait here." She and Swank entered the building.

"That many of the Securitrons out of action- are you sure that's-"

"They won't be out of action," she snapped. "They'll be helping Benny." She dipped her head and softened. "Sorry to take this out on you, Swank. Me being bitchy is the last thing you need."

He shrugged one shoulder, but his eyes glistened. "Eh. Baby brother's gotten himself in plenty of tight jams before. No reason to think he won't get out of this one, too."

She nodded, but couldn't speak.

They emerged into the warehouse proper where about a dozen Chairmen and a very bewildered Mickey waited to find out why the hell they were here. Honor started to explain. "Someone got into the Tops in the past day or so..." A choked sob silenced her.

Swank took up the slack. "You all know the boss is down. Whoever did this, we need to find the fink, and fast."

"One of you- maybe more than one- saw who it was. If he got in, he was frisked. Not well enough, but-" She cut herself off. _Not the time_. "He was seen. Or she. I want all of you to describe anyone suspicious, anyone who struck you wrong, anyone-" She turned her head and closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears. "You get the idea. Describe them to Mickey, see if he can draw them. We'll see if we know any of them, or get anything to go on. Mickey, you tell me what you want as compensation for doing this, and I'll see you get it. Anything, Mickey." Mickey nodded and ran to grab a pad.

One of the younger men present, one Swank suspected hoped to head the family someday and already likely had his eyes on Swank and Benny's backs, piped up. "Last I checked, lady, you weren't a Chairman. You ain't in charge of the Strip or even the head of one of the Families. Who says you get to give the orders around here?"

Swank enthusiastically smacked the kid on the back of the head. "You don't want to do this for Honor, the woman who made sure the Chairmen became the top dogs of this town? Fine. Then do it for Benny." He glared at the boy. "You know, _the head_ of the heads of the Families." As the others murmured agreement, Swank told the boy in low tones, "And don't you go thinkin' she's not a Chairman. Benny and Honor, they're the real thing, kid. You deal with one, you're dealing with both of them. Any more talk otherwise is likely to see you out the door and into the wasteland, you dig?" He turned away from the kid and found Honor watching him, her gratitude plain. He gave her half a smile.

They were in this together.

~#~

Honor paced the entire time Mickey worked, drawing after drawing added to a stack that was growing depressingly high. At last, the final sketch joined the others, and she and Swank began digging through them. She resisted the urge to ask how much time they'd lost doing this; knowing would change nothing, but if they found some clue, some idea as to the bastard's identity, if they could get _some_ idea of where to start, where to go-

About halfway down the stack, she froze. Swank looked over her shoulder. "I know that guy. Squirrely. Always gave me the creeps."

She held up the drawing as if the paper might suddenly ignite and burn them all. "He's a Legion spy."

Swank stiffened. "What the- he's been in the Tops. He's been in all the casinos." He suppressed a shiver. "Who is he? Do you know?"

"His name's Wul-pace, something. Arcade will know. But this is really all we need."

She showed the sketch to Yes Man who in turn broadcast it to the waiting Securitrons. It wouldn't take long for the army of robots to scour the Mojave; if the bastard was still in the region- and Honor had absolutely no qualms about sending them into other territories, including the NCR- they would find him faster than humanly possible. She waited at Benny's side for news, her armor at her feet, and when word came that they had found Vulpes Inculta, she whispered her promise to Benny once more and began strapping on her armor as she walked out of his room.

Boone had volunteered to help with this phase of the process, and with no prodding. He was waiting for her deep in the unused bowels of Vault 21 when she arrived, and only minutes later they were joined by several Securitrons dragging a bound and unconscious Legionary with them. The robots dropped the man to the concrete floor and ranged themselves along the walls of the room. It had once been a common room, but lined with the burly robots, it was positively claustrophobic. It didn't bother Honor, and if it bothered Boone, he didn't let on. He nudged the prisoner awake with a vicious kick to the kidney. "Up and at 'em, asshole."

Vulpes roused, blinking, but as he rolled over and saw Honor, he seemed to make a pretty quick assessment of what was happening. "Courier," he hissed. His sibilant voice made her skin crawl. "How are you and your...beloved?"

She ignored the bait and knelt beside him. "Here's the situation. I know what you did to Benny. I just need to know the details of what you used. You _are_ going to tell me, because I won't let you die until you do."

He stared a moment, then laughed. "You're _serious_, woman? You think you can break one of the mighty Caesar's chosen Frumentarii?"

She shrugged. "I broke the mighty Caesar. Well, his skull, anyway. Cracked it right open, remember?"

Vulpes started to seethe, but tamped it down quickly. "You cannot break me, whore. Go spread your legs for your tribal degenerate one more time before he dies. I would think he won't be much use to you afterward, but I know profligate tastes do sometimes sicken a civilized man."

She spoke as if he hadn't. "You want to know why I think I can break you?" She sat down on the floor and inspected her hand. "I know you were there when Lucius tortured Benny." She saw his sickening smile out of the corner of her eye and nearly vomited, but she managed to continue as if she were in complete control. "You know what was done to him. Thing is-" and now she leaned close so that he could look her in the eyes, could see that she meant every goddamn word- "_I_ know what was done to him, too. I didn't get to take revenge on Lucius for what he did, or on Caesar for ordering it. But you're looking like a pretty good substitute to me."

His body quivered, just a little, but enough for her to know that he rightly believed her. "You haven't the stomach for it," he braved. "No woman-"

She held her hand up. "Boone, please?"

He almost smiled at her. "Thought you'd never ask." He pulled out his combat knife and placed it in her hand, then bent down and roughly pushed Vulpes back onto his stomach. He knew it would be easier for Honor to cut the uniform off of this piece of human shit he held down, but he tore the cloth with his bare hands, anyway. He'd agreed to let Honor do all the bloodletting, so he would have to expend his anger in other ways on this one.

"You can't," Vulpes panted, no longer trying to keep his fear out of his voice.

Honor ignored him, instead waiting until Boone had him sufficiently positioned and pinned for her to start working. She sliced out a nearly gridwork pattern along his spine and across his shoulder blades as he squirmed and swore. When she was done marking out her grid of ragged squares and triangles, she began picking at the corner of one with the tip of the knife. "Tell us what you used," she said, her voice as cool and calm as if she were asking him what he'd had for dinner.

More swearing. More denouncing. More denial that she could break him, but in a voice far more frantic than before.

She picked some more at the corner of flesh, finally lifting it from the meat below. She slid the blade of the knife under the raised edge. "Tell us what you used."

"You won't," Vulpes spluttered, "you can't-"

She sawed with the blade, delicately separating skin from muscle until the square of flesh came free in her hand. She dropped it in front of his face as he shrieked in pain. She started picking at the next corner. Eventually, a second patch of skin joined the first on the floor. He shrieked louder as the air hit the exposed nerves in the raw meat of his back.

She was just digging under the third piece when he began rattling off the various poisons and venoms he had managed to slip to Benny two days before.

As soon as he completed the list, Yes Man appropriated one of the Securitrons. "I've already transmitted the information to the Followers," he announced, but by then Honor was on the stairs and headed out. Boone braced his foot against the patch of raw meat she'd exposed on Vulpes's back and leaned forward, his rifle braced on his knee and pointing to Vulpes's temple.

"I gotta give the weasel this. You broke a lot quicker than he did," he commented casually, and he knew he didn't have to explain who he meant. He looked up to the Securitrons, waiting for them to signal that the information was accurate. "They stripped him neck to waist and that still wasn't enough. But you know how tough those degenerate tribals are."

If Vulpes had a reply, he never got to voice it. Yes Man popped in, and Boone pulled the trigger.

~#~

Benny came to in a hazy Med-x fog. He didn't immediately remember why he was in the hospital, but he was pretty sure he was grateful for the Med-x. He looked around for Honor, confident that if this was where he was, it was where she was.

He was right. She was leaning on the edge of his bed, her cheek propped in one hand, and she smiled a bright, tired smile as he opened his eyes and focused on her. "Pussycat," he said, and frowned as he realized he still wore the oxygen mask. He lifted his hand to move it; it felt like moving underwater.

She took his hand and placed it gently on his chest, holding it in her own. "You need that still. You're going to be here a few more days, but Arcade and Julie say you're only going to feel better from here."

He nodded slowly. "What the hell did I have?"

She smiled, only this time it was even more tired. "We can talk about that when you're home. Right now, you're on bed rest and don't have to worry about anything else."

He gave her a silly grin from behind the mask. "_Bed_ rest, huh? Think this bed'll hold two?"

She stroked his face gently. "Oh, believe me, honey baby, as soon as you're well enough, we're gonna find out."

He drifted back to sleep, the silly grin still on his face.


End file.
